And Now, A Word From the Cat

Hi. My name is Pooie. My sister Tolie and I have a person sometimes known as Third Base Line. Today, I'd like to tell you about the past couple of weeks of my life. It all started when I went to the vet.

See, my people thought it was great that I'm all slim and I play like a kitten on speed even though I'm eleven years old (Twelve next month! Send cheese!). They've tried every trick in the book to get Tolie's weight down, but they didn't have the slightest idea that anything was wrong with me until I started having respiratory problems.

They took me to the vet and it turns out I'm hyper and thin and wheeze when I get over-excited because I have a condition called thyrotoxicosis, or feline hyperthyroid disease. I've got it pretty bad. I might even have heart and/or liver problems because of it--they can't really tell until they get the thyroid under control.

The first thing I have to do is leave my people on Wednesday and spend 2-3 weeks in a special facility while I process a radioactive iodine injection. Once my poop no longer has any value on the black market I can go home again. That doesn't sound like much fun, does it? But it's better than dying. I just hope I only need one injection. If I need two, I could be there for a month or more.

While I'm there I'll be given a full cardiac workup, so if I need heart medication I'll be put on that right away, too. Then after I come home and recuperate for a while, I'll probably have more tests on my liver and maybe my kidneys to make sure they've recovered from the stress my elevated thyroid levels have been putting on them.

The reason I'm telling you this is that I seemed perfectly healthy until my condition reached a pretty advanced state. So if you live with a middle-aged kitty who's exceptionally active, take them to the vet and ask for a thyroid test. I hope they are just frisky. I wish I was.